


To Be Determined

by darlingdisastrous



Series: To Be Determined - Anthology [1]
Category: Flatliners (1990)
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff, Journalist Reader, Mentions of Suicide, Reader is an English Major, Romance, Temporary Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-15
Updated: 2021-02-15
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:14:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29452149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darlingdisastrous/pseuds/darlingdisastrous
Relationships: Nelson Wright/Reader, Nelson Wright/You
Series: To Be Determined - Anthology [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2175507
Kudos: 1





	To Be Determined

The early morning sun cast a warm glow over the cramped café. It’s late October. The coffee shop had its windows decorated with felt cut-out pumpkins and stick-on leaves. Not many people come here this early, mainly University students, seeing as it was a mere block away from campus.

Sitting across from you is Nelson Wright—a man you that, had the circumstances not been a thing of fate, you would’ve never met. The two of you lived in different worlds; you in the stuffy English department (and occasionally the local Newspaper) and he in Med school. Two different lives, equally as demanding, both driven mad by your passion.

The first time you met, it was in passing. You slammed into one another on your way into the hospital. You were granted an assignment by the paper, who’d published some of your work prior and asked you to do a piece on near-death experiences. The second time, like the first, you ran into each other—only this time Nelson wouldn’t let you go without getting your name.

The attraction was been mutual, yet neither of you made any serious moves on the other. Only the occasional coffee date when neither of your schedules were full, which was difficult. However, you filled the gap with late-night phone calls that happened two or three times a week.

After nearly a month, the two of you finally had a free day that matched up. By all accounts, it should’ve been the perfect morning. The kind of thing that gave you that extra pep in your step when you went into the rest of your day, but it wasn’t.

Not when Nelson asked you here, not because he wanted to see you, but because he wanted you to assist in his suicide.

As soon as the words leave his lips, you choke on your drink. You sputter, pulling on the collar of your turtleneck.

“Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“Maybe.” Nelson spread his hands diplomatically like this was a debate about philosophy or a sports team. “Everyone who’s ever accomplished something was considered ‘crazy’ before they proved to the world that they were right. Y/N, I’m on the precipice of a major scientific breakthrough. Do you know what this will mean if I discover the secrets of death?”

“Some things are meant to stay a secret.”

He shakes his head, laughing, “Nothing can stay secret forever. The truth always comes out. I intend to be the one who uncovers this truth—and I want your help.” 

“That’s the other crazy part of this plan!” Your voice is loud, earning a few curious glances from the other patrons. You wince, lowering your voice. “I’m not a doctor. I’m not even a science major—I hate science. And blood. And—and everything that has to do with this foolhardy experiment. Why on earth would you want someone like me in there while you ... while you try to kill yourself?”

Nelson took your hand, effectively cutting off your rant. He gives you a reassuring squeeze. 

“I want you there because I know your work. You’re a fantastic writer, and you already have a major newspaper interested in your work.” He reaches out, laying his other hand on top of the one already in his position. “Think of it like this—if I do this and succeed at proving life after death, you’ll have a first-hand account for your story. You’ll be famous.”

You wonder if he even hears the words coming out of his mouth. For a med student, he sure was stupid.

Leaning back in your seat, you slip out of his grasp. You cross your arms over your chest, frowning. “And what if you don’t? What if you risk your life for nothing? What if you die?”

“I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

He said it with such confidence that you nearly believed him. Nelson was infuriatingly charismatic, if not slightly narcissistic. He believed nothing could ever touch him. That he was invincible.

“Okay,” you say slowly, “Let’s say that you do. Let’s say you survive and come back with the answers you’re looking for. Have you considered the repercussions? What if something follows you back?”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed.

“No, no. This is a legitimate question: what will you do if you bring back something that shouldn’t be here? What if they’re some ... some higher power and they follow you back here because you threw the natural order out of balance?”

“Aren’t you being a bit ridiculous?” Nelson quirked an eyebrow. “Really, Y/N. This experiment is for science.”

“And you’re contradicting yourself.” You rest your elbows on the table, narrowing your eyes. “Here you are preaching about how you’ll discover the secrets of death; that you’ll ... that you’ll prove the existence of some secondary life. By denying the possibility that something could follow you back from the dead, you’re denying the whole experiment.”

“Y/N—”

You narrow your eyes, “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio.”

“I read Hamlet in twelfth grade, too,” he snarked. “What you’re positing is supernatural—”

“Preternatural, and you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Well, I guess I’ll call the Ghostbusters,” he huffs. The two of you stare at each other, neither blinking until his expression softens. “I know you’re worried about me—about this, but trust me. I’m not going into this half-cocked. I’m working with the best of the best, they know what they’re doing. If they get an inkling that the procedure will go wrong, they’ll pull me out.”

Turning your head, you stare out the window onto the street. “I don’t know, Nel.”

You watched as Nelson studied you in your periphery. His hand lingered on the table, a hairsbreadth away from your own, yet refusing to touch. The warmth of his skin radiated onto your own. You’re not sure what you’d do if you never felt that warmth again.

“I’m not going to force you,” he starts slowly, “but I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”

You didn’t want to relent, but a nagging voice in your head tells you he’s right. No matter what the outcome, you’d kick yourself if you didn’t go. If he died—and you knew something about it but didn’t do anything—you’d hate yourself.

But if it worked? If he died ... and came back? You would’ve been a part of a life-changing moment in history.

Finally, you speak. “I ... I’ll think about it.”

Nelson exhales hard, but he knows that’s the best he’s going to get out of you at this time. You slide your hand over and put it back in his. There’s a jolt of warmth that passes through you when you touch. It’s a natural response, one you’ve grown accustomed to over the past several months.

He smiles softly, slotting his fingers through yours. It’s as if the morbid conversation never happened.

“What time is your class?”

“Three.”

He checks his watch. It must be around eleven, leaving more than enough time to spend with the mad doctor. You didn’t want to be presumptuous, though. Nelson had a tendency to leave without warning, and though you might’ve wanted to spend more time with him, you’d never assume.

Maybe you’d use the rest of the time to do the laundry. You’d been putting off for a few days now, but it was getting down to the wire. Or you could go to the paper and check-in.

Mentally, you began compiling a list, until Nelson spoke again.

“Wanna get out of here?”

You blink. “Uh, where?”

He smiled one of his rare, genuine smiles. He lifted your conjoined hands and kissed your knuckles. “Wherever you want.”


End file.
